Emily: Hello Kitten (The ‘Hello’ series)

17. Chapter 17

seventeen

I squirm on the day of the wedding as I pull on my dress. I can still feel Adrian inside me. He fucked me so hard last night, growling in my ear, hands running over every inch of my body, again and again until we got to some kind of quiet calm I don’t want to think about.

Because when I think about being in his arms, I’m ashamed.

He’s my professor.

My fucking professor. I even said it while he was inside me. I said, “Fuck me harder, Professor,” instead of “Sir”, and he came on the spot.

We both know it’s wrong, but now we’re literally walking to my sister’s wedding together. The same sister who knows I’m fucking him, even if she doesn’t know who he is.

I can’t look at him in the elevator. I can’t look at him when we get to our seats for the ceremony. I can’t look at him when my sister comes down the aisle in her huge princess ballgown. When Adrian takes my hand during the vows, I glance at him from the corner of my eye.

His smile is easy, honest, even if it’s small. But all I feel is anxiety curling inside me. I’ve been using this as a kind of sex vacation while knowing it can’t last. What’s wrong with me? I’m covered in foundation and concealer to hide the marks that Adrian’s left on me, and I’ll have to wear it constantly when I get back to campus or Beth will know.

“Stop thinking and pay attention,” Adrian says in my ear.

“You’re the boss at school, not right now,” I say sharply.

He turns and gives me his full attention. We stare at each other when my sister and Mark say, “I do,” but I don’t take back what I said.

After the bride and groom leave, I hurry back to the hotel and slip into the girls’ bathroom.

What the hell am I doing? He’s my professor! I have to stop. I promised my best friend I’d be done with him. By being here with him, I’m threatening his job, my standing in school, and my friendship. Why? For good sex?

Well, it’s mind-blowing sex, but still.

I wash my hands, almost splash water on my face, but stop because of my makeup.

This pink dress is gorgeous, kind of slinky for a wedding, definitely skirting the line considering it has a cascading neckline that shows off cleavage and two slits up the skirt so my thighs show when I walk, but it’s not white.

It’s also not a dress that Adrian is going to ignore. Just as I can’t ignore him. He looks so good in the light blue button-up with his black tie and black slacks.

I shake my head. We head back tomorrow. That’s when I’ll call it quits. He knows—he has to know—that this can’t and won’t last. It’s just not possible. It’s not worth all we could lose if we’re found out.

Rubbing my fingernail between my teeth, I head out to the ballroom for the reception. I keep chewing my nail until my mom grabs me for photos.

I smile, do what I have to do, then finally walk into the reception hall. Adrian is talking with the bridesmaid, who’s clearly flirting with him. If he’s flirting back…

I blink away the thought. It’s just something I have to get used to.

Rather than going to my seat, I head to the bar and get a whiskey double. Adrian was definitely right about their not carding. It’s put in my hand without any kind of question. I down it, set the glass down, thank her, then find someone to talk to.

I clap for my sister when she comes in, smile, let her see me there, give my speech that she asked for during the photos, then start to head out when Adrian catches my hand. He motions to my seat.

“I… I’m not feeling well. I’m heading back to the room. Have fun,” I say.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Sit down, Kitten.”

“You should stay and have fun. I’m… I’m gonna go,” I say again.

“Emily, I’m here for you, not to enjoy—”

I suck in a quick breath. If I don’t get myself under control, I’ll cause a whole scene because I’m worked up.

Sitting down, I glance around to make sure no one has bothered to notice us.

Adrian tries to take my hand, but I fold my hands in my lap. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“You’ve said that every day,” he comments.

“And I’ve meant it every time, Adrian. I have,” I whisper, staring at the admittedly cute origami birds. “You know I’m right, otherwise you wouldn’t avoid the conversation.”

“We’re not back at school yet.”

“And you haven’t promised to stop when we get there. No more comments on papers, no sticky notes, no changing my ‘no’s into something else.” My voice shakes as I say it. “No promises and no follow-through.”

“No eye-fucking me in class,” he murmurs.

“No giving me better grades.”

“I’ve never done that, Emily. Believe me or don’t, but I grade fairly and you don’t need to fail to prove it. I don’t want you to fail.”

I smooth out my dress. “Tonight is the last night we spend together. P–Promise me.”

“I’d be more likely to promise that if I believed it’s what you want.”

“It’s what we need . That’s more important.” I flip my hair over my shoulder. “I need my best friend. I need to graduate. You need your job.”

“You can’t even look at me when you say it,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

He nudges his chair back, and I glance at him as he’s rocked back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. I swallow and gaze at his face. His gorgeous, annoyed face.

When our eyes meet, he sighs. “I know what’s smart, Emily.”

“Then let’s make this easy. We’ll finish our great weekend and nothing else.”

He shakes his head slightly, the muscle in his jaw tensing. “I can’t agree to stop wanting you. I can’t agree to predicting a future where we don’t do this again.”

“Don’t say things like that,” I hiss. “It’s just sex and you know it.”

“Emily,” he says, his eyes softening.

I shake my head and walk away. I can’t do this.

Not with him.

Not at my sister’s wedding.

Not when I can’t stand looking at him as I say it.

It is just sex. Sure, we can tease and talk to one another easily, but plenty of people find that. Our feelings will pass and we’ll both wish we'd moved on before shit hits the fan.

All I’m doing is ending things before the bad smacks us around and ruins our future. I take the stairs instead of the elevator and fumble with my purse, struggling to get the key out. I end up with my phone, texting Beth a lie that everything’s fine. To soften it, I tell the truth too.

The wedding is beautiful, the guy my mom picked for me is a tool, and I can’t wait to be back on campus.

She responds quickly.

Ah, I miss you too.

I finally find the key. I slip it into the door, text my mother that I’m not feeling well, then struggle with my dress.

I can’t reach the zipper, I’m losing my mind, hating myself, calling myself a slut, calling myself easy, calling myself a thousand things because if I don’t, I’ll want to run back to him.

I feel good when he touches me.

I feel alive and right and… fuck, why isn’t he here right now?

Why can’t I fucking breathe!

Rather than dealing with the zipper, I wrestle out of my dress, fling it down on the bed, then take the hottest shower I can manage. I just need to scrub everything off me. Adrian gets one more night and the morning.

We’ll have an awkward drive back to his place. I’ll drop him off. He’ll walk inside without looking back.

It will sting.

I’ll mope around.

I’ll hate seeing him in class, but I’ll work hard.

I’ll focus on my studies to get over him.

I’ll move on after a month.

It will hurt when he does too since I know what the other woman will get. Then we’ll be strangers.

It’ll be that easy because I don’t care about him. All I care about is the sex. The sex is all that matters.

I’ll memorize our last night together. I’ll refuse to wake up on time in the morning, then pack, say whatever I have to so he never wants to talk to me again.

Adrian will keep his job.

No one will know.

My family will think he was just another fling. Beth won’t find out about this. I’ll laugh about it years from now.

It’s all fine.